


Day 5 - A Bad Turian

by TheWeirdDane



Series: Kinktober 2017 [5]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Daddy Issues, Established Relationship, F/M, Face Slapping, Humiliation, Kinktober, Kinktober 2017, Light Dom/sub, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Verbal Humiliation, Xenophilia, its only mentioned briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 07:32:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12271815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWeirdDane/pseuds/TheWeirdDane
Summary: It's not often that Shepard receives a proposition such as 'Shepard, please humiliate me and call me a bad turian', but when it does, she's all too happy to oblige.





	Day 5 - A Bad Turian

Day 5: **Humiliation** |Cuckolding | Body Swap

* * *

 “I didn’t think a proud turian like yourself would be into that sort of thing.”

They were out, eating at a restaurant that catered to all alien species. Garrus was thrilled to not have to make own his food _and_ not having to pay for it – this time, it was on Shepard. They had attracted quite a few glances from the other couples in here, even from the waiters. Apparently, a human female with a male turian was an unusual sight.

Shepard didn’t even want to think about what people would say to a same-sex human-turian relationship.

Garrus laughed softly and shook his head, mandibles flaring out a bit. Shepard recognized it as amusement coupled with slight anxiety.

“A proud turian? Come on, you know me better than anyone else, I’m the worst turian a parent could possibly ask for.”

Shepard shrugged and dove her fork into her food – spaghetti carbonara – gathering a big portion and shoveling it into her mouth. Manners were something she rarely bothered with, and not at all when it came to food. Sure, she _could_ eat nicely, but then it took so _long_ to finish a meal, and she just didn’t have time for that. There were a few times, however, like when they were eating out, that Garrus would look at her just the slightest bit condescendingly but with a smile tugging at his mouth plates.

“I don’t know, Garrus, your people are so hung up on military and weapons, and you’re so good at both.”

“Please, I was practically kicked out of C-Sec because of the whole thing with Saren. Did I tell you how mad my father was that I wanted to do things _my_ way, and not the C-Sec way?”

“Only about a million times,” she chuckled and swallowed down her food, smiling around the fork in her mouth.

“So that’s what gets you going, huh? Being humiliated for being a bad turian?”

“Yeah. I know, probably pretty fucked up.” He laughed nervously and poked his fork through his food – something that Shepard didn’t even dare venture a guess at what was.

Shepard shrugged again.

“Not more fucked up than humans having Daddy issues, in my opinion.”

“Daddy issues?” Garrus inquired, brow plates knotting together.

“Yeah,” Shepard said and took a sip of her drink – an asari drink, purple with a slice of fruit and a little umbrella – before continuing, “usually women who were rejected by their father, so they now have difficulty finding a partner and trusting people.”

Garrus looked thoughtful for a second, then uttered a “Huh”. Shepard quirked an eyebrow at him, took another forkful spaghetti in her mouth.

“Wha’?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

After that, they continued eating in silence, and Shepard wondered how to get back on the right track now. She seemed to have weirded him out by bringing up daddy issues.

Luckily for her, he was the one to break the silence.

“But you,” he cleared his throat and tried to look nonchalant, but she noticed his hand tremble slightly, “you’re fine with doing that?”

“If you’re fine with being a bad, bad turian,” she said, her voice dropping several octaves, and ran her foot up his leg, making him drop his fork onto his plate with a clank that attracted the looks of several other guests.

“Shepard, I---”

“From now on, you will call me mistress, or you’ll be punished. Is that clear?” Her voice was so quiet and low that only he could hear it, but that just made it even more arousing.

“Shepard, please, this is a public---"

“What was that?”

“… Yes, mistress.”

“Good boy. Now what do you say we skip dinner and head home?”

He was helpless but to nod.

* * *

Once home, Shepard turned around and leaned in to kiss him hungrily, passionately.

“Any words you’re particularly fond of, or some I should avoid?” she asked in a low growl and claimed his mouth with her tongue, exploring the cave she already knew so intimately it felt like they had never been strangers. He groaned into her mouth, knees nearly buckling, and returned the kiss.

“Let loose,” he whispered, and _god_ , his voice had dropped several pitches, his subvocals harmonizing in a low rumble.

“Alright then, _slave_ ,” she said and broke off the kiss, noticing with a pang of pride how he visibly shivered, “get on your knees by the couch and undress for me.”

He did so surprisingly fast, nearly rushing to obey her order. ‘Must want it more than I realized,’ she thought to herself and chuckled inwardly, striding towards the couch where he so obediently sat down on his knees, hands resting on his thighs and eyes fixed on her. His clothes had been thrown on the couch, leaving him stark-naked before her.

A sight she wouldn’t ever tire of.

“Now,” she began and circled him, relished how his head turned to follow her as she walked around, “there are a few rules that you must obey. Rule one: if you don’t obey the rules, you will be punished. But, if you’re good, you’ll be rewarded. Is that clear?”

Garrus nodded, his chest already rising and sinking rapidly.

“Your lack of words leads me to rule two; you must always use your words. Understood, slave?”

“Yes.”

She backhanded him across the cheek and was careful not to hit his mandibles, the sound resonating within the silent apartment. He groaned loudly but she noticed how warm his hide was, insinuating he liked it more than he let on.

“At the restaurant, I asked you to call me a specific word. What was that?”

“Mistress.”

A stroke of his fringe, briefly but affectionately. It had Garrus’ mind reeling, not knowing how to cope with so many different feelings in such a short time span.

“So, what do you say to the second rule?”

“Yes, mistress,” he said, and his voice wavered slightly, going up a pitch as the breath hitched in his throat.

“Good boy. Third rule is that you only speak when you’re spoken to, unless you choose to use our safeword. Understood?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Very good. You’re being so good and obedient for me, aren’t you?”

“A-Anything for you, mistress,” he breathed out, barely more than a whisper, and his eyes gleamed with arousal, the icy blue growing slightly darker. She stroked his cheek where she had smacked him, again briefly but affectionately, before nudging him back against the couch with a boot-clad foot. She rarely left the apartment in anything else than her military boots.

“Anything?” She quirked a brow in a dare, and he nodded. When the nod wasn’t followed by words, she smacked his other cheek.

“Use your words, _pet_ ,” and the word was spat at him like he wasn’t even worth spending her precious time on.

“Anything, mistress,” he sputtered and leaned back against the couch, supported by his hands on the floor. Shepard looked him up and down and was pleased to see that his plates had begun shifting already. His slit was barely visible but shone a faint grey-blue color.

“Lick my boot.”

She knew it was a bit uncertain whether Garrus would actually do it – he knew her boots were old and grimy, with mud on the soles and in the nooks and crannies. Shepard had another request for him if he didn’t go through with it, but amazingly, he chose to lick her boot.

His long, grey-blue tongue slipped out between his mouth plates and, while looking intently up at her, he licked from the snout of the boot and to her ankles. It was a long, slow drag that got her to inhale sharply and her eyes to glisten as she looked down at him.

“Good slave.”

Her praise went straight to his slit that was getting more visible between his plates, and he was shamefully aware of how little it took to make the tip of his cock protrude from the opening. But Spirits, the things she said, the things she did…!

Shepard merely chuckled low in her throat.

“You like that, huh? Like licking my old, dirty, worn military boots? Hell, they’ve seen more war than what’s good for them. Need to retire them, probably. But look at how you worship them. Makes me wonder if you love me half as much.”

“Mistress,” he began, his voice raspy and throaty, and he pressed his maw against the side of her boot, “I love you more than there are stars in the galaxy.”

“Shut up, I didn’t ask for sappiness.” And for good measure, she grabbed his fringe and yanked his head backwards in a painful manner. He growled low in his throat, a sound that went straight to her core and made warmth pool in her lower stomach. But she had to remain dominant, had to keep the upper hand.

“Move to the other side of the couch. Lean in over it and spread your legs. Don’t move till I come back. Got it, pet?”

“Yes, mistress,” he groaned and started to get up, but was pushed down again, her boot still on his shoulder.

“That won’t do – pets, or slaves, don’t walk, they crawl. Don’t you agree?”

She could practically _feel_ his hide heating up as he bowed his head, markings becoming darker.

“Y-Yes, mistress,” he repeated before crawling, on his hands and knees, to the other side of the couch where he obediently leaned over the edge and spread his legs. What a sight it was.

Deeming it good enough, Shepard nodded curtly to him and went to their bedroom, rummaging around beneath their bed before dragging out a rectangular, pink box. She grabbed it and moved back to the living room, putting the box down beside Garrus and started opening it.

Inside the box was a long, thick dildo – modelled after Garrus’ own cock – and a harness that was made specifically for Shepard and this toy. The dildo, in addition to being long and thick, was covered in bumps and ridges and had the same grey color as his face, but also carried some of the markings. The tip was slightly flat, letting it slide easily inside. Also in the box was a bottle of lube.

Without a word, and making sure he was watching her every move, she put on the harness, tightening the straps around her thighs, hips, and waist, and secured the dildo to it.

She gleefully noted how shallow and rugged his breathing had become.

“Like that, slave? Like the thought of me fucking you?” she asked and moved behind him, grabbing his fringe and yanking his head back. The move earned her a growl, but it turned into a long, shaky moan when she pressed her fingers against the soft hide under his fringe. She smiled wickedly.

“Yes, m-mistress--- oh Spirits,” he panted, his voice quivering.

Then her hand was at his face, fingers prodding at his lips and pushing into his mouth, past the rows of deadly sharp teeth, and she ordered him to “Suck, whore,” and he didn’t dawdle. Immediately, his tongue wrapped around her fingers and laved at them, lapping eagerly between the digits and groaning softly when she pressed the tips down against his tongue, rubbing slowly.

“You’re being so good for me, turian, I wonder why your father could never see how obedient you are. You always tried to make Daddy proud, didn’t you?”

It was a bit of a gamble to involve his father, but it paid off; the breath hitched in his throat and he made a choked-off sound between a moan and a whimper.

“Oh, you like that? Like knowing that he never approved of you or your ways of handling matters? That you never managed to make him proud of you?”

He whimpered something around her fingers that wasn’t quite clear, but she let it slide just this once. Especially when he started sucking on her fingers instead of just licking them, swirling his tongue around her fingers and dragging them further into his mouth until nearly her whole hand was inside. It was warm and damp, and she felt the teeth rest against her wrist, making a shiver wreck her body.

“You’re a _disgrace_ ,” she hissed against his ear, voice dropping a few pitches to make it low and sultry, “being on your knees and about to be fucked by a human, and a _woman_ on top of that. Just imagine what your father would say if he knew about this. What do you think he would say?”

“That I’m pathetic, mistress,” came the muffled reply around her fingers, followed by a sharp moan when Shepard smacked his ass with her other hand.

“That’s right, you’re pathetic, and a mess. You were never a real turian, were you?”

“N-No, mistress,” and his voice had gotten rough and raspy, shakier, “I’m just a slave.”

“That’s right,” she repeated and stroked his fringe slowly before yanking his head further back, exposing his soft throat, “you’re my slave, my pet, my _slut_. And you’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

“I will,” he rasped, and with his head this far back, Shepard noticed that the area below his eyes was wet. She frowned. Was he… was he crying?

“Timeout,” she said, and Garrus visibly sagged against the couch, breathing heavily. “Garrus, are you crying?”

He nodded but pushed back against her all the same.

“It’s too good, please don’t stop,” he whispered, and now that she knew it, she could easily hear that he was, or had been, crying.

Her frown got bigger as she moved on the couch in front of him, cupping his face in her hands.

“Shep--- Mistress, I’m fine, I promise.”

“But you’re crying.”

“Have you heard me use the safeword?” She shook her head. “Then always assume I’m fine.”

She hesitated for a second, bumping their foreheads together for a few seconds before nodding.

“Alright, slave, then I think you deserve some punishment for being so weak and pathetic, even allowing yourself to cry. What do you think?”

And once more, the breath hitched in his throat, and he uttered a slight hiccup. She tugged on his fringe before shoving him away rather forcefully. Then she moved back around and behind him, and by the gods, did he look amazing like this – his skin slightly darker than normal, a thin sheen of sweat covering it, his legs spread and quivering. She drank in the sight greedily before moving on.

Her hand, still slick with his saliva, reached down to his ass, and she easily found his hole, startling him. Shepard proceeded to probe and prod at his hole, purring lowly when he gasped and leaned his head back. His hands grasped at the leather of the couch, talons scooting over the fabric without tearing it. His heart was beating so fast he feared it would burst out of his chest, and his throat was dry and tight.

“I said, what do you think?” she snarled against his ear and pushed a finger inside, making him gasp and jerk a bit.

“Yes, mistress,” and _oh_ , his voice was so deliciously tight and breathy, and Shepard could hardly believe this was real, that Garrus was allowing her to do these things to him, “punish me, I’ve been a bad turian.”

“Bet no one has played with your little hole before, have they?” she asked, low and deep, and relished the choked-off breath that it earned her, “I bet you saved it for some big, badass, muscular turian who would force you into submission during those _sparring_ you guys have, didn’t you? And now you’re here, on your knees just because a human woman says so, and she’s about to raw… your… ass.” She punctuated the last three words with firm thrusts of her finger, and Garrus could do little else than moan and push back against her.

“Shep--- Mistress, please, I need you,” he gasped. She reached up to land a slap on his cheek, then the other, and he growled, but only until Shepard started thrusting her finger harder and faster, setting a rhythm. This had him gasping and whining – yes, _whining_ – and a shiver raced down her spine at the pathetic, needy sound.

Within long, she felt it safe to insert another finger, and he was so tight around her it made the breath go out of her a little.

“You’re so tight, Vakarian,” she murmured against his neck and bit down hard, not quite breaking the hide but hard enough to make Garrus grunt and then growl again, “can’t wait to fuck you with your own cock, to own you completely. I wonder what kind of sounds you make when you’re on the receiving end of penetration.”

“I-I wouldn’t know, mistress,” he panted, “I have never tried it.”

“Of course you haven’t,” she cooed mockingly and moved her fingers hard and fast inside him, gradually loosening him, “you’re just a turian who thinks they’re so tough that they can get any prey they set their eyes on, aren’t you? Just another predator with severe Daddy issues.”

Garrus now laid over the couch, his arms outstretched and his head resting on the cool leather. His breathing was quick and shallow, his voice tight and raspy when he spoke again.

“I’m a bad turian, mistress, please, _please_ , show me how to be good, I’ll do anything you say,” he whimpered, and Shepard gleefully noted the very real desperation in his voice.

“Anything?”

“ _Anything_ ,” he whispered and turned his head to look at her, the visor slightly in the way of proper eye contact.

“Very well. Then get your hands back to your ass and keep yourself open.”

With what could have been a blush, if turians blushed, Garrus did as asked. He held his asscheeks gingerly but firmly and spread them so Shepard could… do her stuff. But at first, she didn’t move, simply admired him, and Garrus felt a shudder wreck his body. This was embarrassing as all hell, but he would be damned if it wasn’t also one of the hottest situations Shepa--- mistress had put him in.

Then, suddenly, there was a warm, wet _something_ against his hole, and he jerked forward and away from the foreign touch. Shepard wasn’t having it, however, and grabbed his thighs tightly.

“Don’t move,” she growled, and her voice came from so far beneath him that he keyed together what she was doing, and the thought made his heart fly into his throat. Mistress was using her tongue on him, on his ass!

The humiliation was almost unbearable – the keyword being ‘almost’ – but he would be hard pressed to come up with a more arousing scenario. He wanted to touch himself, so badly, but something told him that that wasn’t acceptable, and he didn’t want to upset his mistress.

So instead he did the natural thing – leaning over the couch while spreading his asscheeks to let Shepard lick at his hole. Her tongue was warm and firm, full of her moisture and licking around his hole, making him sigh shakily and inadvertently push back against her mouth.

“I said, don’t move,” she growled again and one of her hands smacked his ass hard while her tongue worked his hole, prodding and probing before pushing firmly inside, earning her a beautiful, wrecked sob. She wiggled her tongue, pressing it deeper in, as deep as she could, and trying to stimulate him just the right places.

If his groans and sighs were anything to go by, she was doing one hell of a job.

When her jaw started aching, Shepard pulled back out and was rewarded with a low whine, deep in his throat.

“I know, slave, I know you need that little hole of yours filled with something. But don’t worry, I’ll give you something to whine about soon enough.” Her voice was cool and mocking, and Garrus tried to suppress a whimper, but it was futile. Shepard laughed at his misery, then grabbed the bottle of lube and squirted some on the dildo, rubbing and stroking it in so all of the toy was completely covered with the cold, sticky substance.

“Are you ready, slut?”

“Yes, mistress,” and his voice was little more than a whisper, little more than a breathy plea for _more, more, more_ , and Shepard was all too happy to oblige.

She steadied herself with a hand on his slim waist while the other guided the cock to his hole, and she pushed firmly inside, groaning deeply. This toy was the finest that credits could buy; complete with vibrations and letting the dom feel what it was like to penetrate, as if the cock was their own, not just a toy.

Shepard groaned loudly and called up her omni-tool, adjusting the vibrations until the faint buzzing could be heard over Garrus’ surprisingly shrill moans. He tried squirming away, but Shepard had the upper hand – her hand lingering on his waist squeezed tightly and pulled him hard back against the toy.

The dildo disappeared into his tight hole, and the feeling had Shepard’s mind reeling. He was warm and tight, still wet from her tongue-fucking, and when she thrust into him to bury herself to the hilt, it was with a strained groan from both of them. She placed both hands on his waist and pulled almost completely out before slamming back inside.

Repeating the motion over and over again, Shepard quickly grew even more aroused than she had been from verbally humiliating Garrus. Warmth pooled in her lower stomach, and she was very much aware of how wet she was getting.

“You feel amazing, slave,” she groaned and pulled out, only to force herself all the way back inside before setting a hard and fast pace that had Garrus’ breath hitching in his throat with each thrust, “so nice and tight for me. Your little hole was made for me to destroy you, don’t you agree?”

He nodded before grunting out a weak “Y-Yes, mistress,” and leaned his head back, exposing his soft throat, and Shepard grabbed the chance, leaned up to sink her flat teeth into his flesh, and he roared loudly in a pain-pleasure mix. She tugged at the flesh, making him growl lowly before letting go again, tasting blood in her mouth.

She sped up her thrusts, making them come in sharp, hard slaps of her still clothed body against his naked one, and the sounds reverberated through the otherwise silent living room. The only other sounds were those of their shared pleasure; his growls and grunts and her groans and gasps.

It didn’t take long before Garrus was trembling all over and his body covered in a thick layer of sweat. He leaned his head forward against the cool leather of the couch and panted, his breathing erratic and quick. Every now and then, soft puffs of air that almost sounded like “Mistress” escaped him, and whenever it happened, Shepard felt her heart skip a beat.

When she noticed his body trembling all over, she figured he was getting close, and leaned in to murmur against his ear.

“Don’t you want to touch yourself?”

He gasped, his voice breaking when he spoke and he had to try again.

“Ye-Yes, mistress, I need it so badly.”

“Too bad. You’ll come from my cock when I say so and not a minute sooner or later,” she said with a wicked smile tugging on her lips. He let out a truly frustrated sound, his hands digging into the couch without tearing it, and bucked back against her now borderline merciless thrusts.

“Please, mistress,” he practically _begged_ , and oh gods, what that pathetic, needy undertone did to her. Her cunt throbbed and she wanted so desperately touch herself, to get some kind of relief, but this was about Garrus and his orgasm.

“You’re nothing more than a way to entertain myself, whore, and if you ever think of yourself as anything but a slave, you’ll be punished. Don’t think I can’t read your face, I know what you’re thinking,” she snarled and leaned over him to thrust deeper. It was a bit awkward, their size difference taken into consideration, but Shepard made it work.

She always made it work.

Garrus broke out in a sob, and for a second, Shepard thought about calling it off; he was crying again, but he _had_ told her that unless he used their safeword, he was alright. So she trusted him to trust her, and kept going.

It didn’t take long, however, before Garrus’ breathing came to a halt and he reached a hand back to grab Shepard’s wrist. His entire body had gone rigid, and he held his breath even as Shepard asked what he was doing.

“What are you doing, _slave_?” she repeated and stopped moving. As she did, Garrus sagged against the couch and whimpered.

“You… you touched something really, really good,” he whispered, voice hoarse and grating, and squeezed Shepard’s wrist tighter.

She let out a rough laughter and started thrusting again, aiming for that spot that got Garrus to inhale sharply and clench around her.

She didn’t have to search for long.

Within a few minutes, she had found the spot and now mercilessly pounded the bundle of nerves. Garrus was helpless but to gurgle and grunt, all guttural sounds from deep down in his stomach, carried to his throat and forcing their way out between gritted teeth. His body slid over the leather and he pressed eagerly back against her relentless thrusts.

“Please---”

“Ah-ah-ah,” she tutted and smacked his cheek hard, “no speaking unless you’re spoken to.”

“S-Sorry.”

 _Smack,_ another hard slap across his cheek.

“Sorry, _what_?”

“Mistress, sorry, mistress!” he almost sobbed. Shepard reached around to find his cock, hard as steel and dripping pre-cum onto the carpet. When she touched it, he let out a strangled cry that went straight to her cunt, and she started stroking him slowly and deliberately missed that wonderful spot inside him that got him to see stars.

Garrus growled in frustration and pushed back against her, then thrust into her hand, not knowing which touch he liked the most.

“I-I’ll come soon,” he whispered, and his voice trembled so bad she almost couldn’t hear what he said.

She tutted at him again.

“What a disappointment. Can’t even let your mistress come first, can you? I’m not even close, Vakarian,” that was a bold lie, “and you’re so close already? But if you really want it, then…” And then she gripped him tighter, started stroking in the same rhythm she was thrusting, and in one, two, three, four, five strokes, Garrus was coming all over her hand with a thunderous roar. His ass clamped down around her and sent a shudder through her body, making her moan and thrust as hard, fast, and deep as she could inside him as he came.

His body, rigid and stiff as a board, eventually sagged against the couch, completely spent and his breathing rugged and uneven.

Shepard let him come down from his high before gingerly pulling out, making him wince and sigh softly at the loss. She merely chuckled, promised him “Maybe another time, big guy,”.

Then she stripped off the harness and set the dildo aside on the floor, writing a mental note to wash it later. Right now, the important thing was to cuddle Garrus until she was sure he was okay.

So she wrapped her arms around his waist, forced him onto his feet, and led him towards the bathroom. Here, she helped him shower and get rid of all that pesky sweat that covered his body. Once that was done, they moved to the bedroom where Shepard helped him under the covers – he wobbled on his legs, a sight that amused Shepard to no end – and they ended up snuggling close together, Shepard stroking his cheeks and fringe.

Occasionally, she massaged the softer hide beneath the long spikes, making him moan softly.

“That’s it, you’re so good for me,” she whispered and rubbed at the skin. He took off his visor, making Shepard do a double-take, and nuzzled his face against her chest.

“Just relax, it’s over now, I got you.” She kept murmuring sweet nothings to him until his body went pliant and he let out a soft snore.

‘Guess it’s been one hell of an evening for you,’ she thought and kissed his forehead, squeezing him tighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed <3


End file.
